The Cost Of Blood
by ItFeelsSoWrite
Summary: The tragic three-part fall of the Blood King. Post-Season Two, Pre-Season Three.
1. Blood Thief

**_The Cost of Blood_**

"No. No no no. This . . . this isn't how it's supposed to happen!" It was a chilling sight. Bo's words were quiet, an essence of calm despite the undercurrent of urgency – as if she were reciting a dramatic monologue straight out of Shakespeare for the sake of memorization and less to capture the emotion. Likewise, her body was in equal indecision. Trembling hands wrung her jaw before reaching out to the cold body of her mother, ghoulish white to the point where she almost seemed illuminated in the dank, light-less jail cell while the rest of her body was as stiff as the rigamortis before them. "We were supposed to find her. Alive. She's supposed to be alive!" Bo crumpled to her knees, barely brushing the backs of her fingernails against Aife's cheek before her hand jerked back violently. "She's so cold."

"Bo . . ." Lauren exhaled painfully, watching as Kenzi had the strength to do what she longed to, kneeling beside her best friend as she gently but firmly grasped Bo's shoulders.

"We need to get her out of here," Kenzi suggested softly to Bo, though Lauren caught the double meaning without skipping a beat as Kenzi shot her a look over the shoulder. "She deserves to rest somewhere warmer. Come on, Bo Bo . . ." Kenzi massaged Bo's shoulder, waiting for her invincible best friend to rise. When she didn't, Kenzi took matters into her own hands. Slipping both arms beneath Bo's armpits, she dug her heels into the dusty cobblestone and hefted, first slowly, but then more insistently as Bo remained unmoved.

"Bo," Lauren repeated, inhaling a deep breath before crossing to Aife's side, dropping to her haunches to catch Bo's down-turned gaze. "Let's put her to rest, Bo. Okay?" With a weak nod, Bo remained limp. She hadn't bothered to meet Lauren's gaze, but Lauren knew she was crying. The tears had already managed to carve trails through the dust of the craggy floor.

Rolling up the sleeves of her coat, Lauren slowly eased the length of both her forearms beneath Aife, gathering the bulk of her weight before slowly and stiffly lifting them both from the knees. Reaching her full height, she shifted Aife until the body cradled inward against her chest. Bo's face shot up horrified before catching Lauren's eyes. Her mouth had opened in passionate protest, but the warmth and compassion in those pleading, honey brown eyes let her know that she didn't have to fight. Not yet. Not now. Shifting her legs beneath her, she helped Kenzi help her up, brushing her cheeks dry with the back of her wrist.

"We need to take her to the Dal. Trick needs to know," Bo said shakily, the objectivity of the statement the only dam keeping the tears back.

* * *

"Trick, is there a back door we can use?" Kenzi asked as she approached the bar, slapping her palm against the counter-top more out of habit than anything. The dwarf's back was on her, assisting another customer.

A smile spread upon his lips as he answered before turning, "Isn't that a question better asked after you've had your usual four shots?" The butt of his question marked the end of his merriment as his attempt at Kenzi humor was met with nothing but buzzing blue irises scanning his. The crinkles of his eyes gave way to a deep furrow of his brow. "Yeah, there's a door by the dumpster out back. I'll meet you there to let you in." Without another word, the two hurried for the rendezvous, Hale nearly giving himself whip lash as he tried to follow Kenzi's blazing trail.

"I think something's up, man," Hale turned to Dyson before nodding his head in the direction that Kenzi had left. Dyson's eyes lingered on the freshly closed door before returning to his drink.

"When is there not something up?" he mumbled into his Jack before shooting the rest of the glass, shaking his in front of Hale as he waited for the burn to clear his throat. "I'm going to grab another one. You in?" Hale stared at him.

"Dude. What about 'something's up' did you not understand?"

"Probably the same part of 'It's not our business' that you seem to struggle with. I'll get two. If you don't drink yours, I will."

* * *

"Can you see the van from here?" Lauren asked as she backed the delivery van into the back alley.

"No, that's perfect," Kenzi reassured, rapping on the back door a third time before it swung open, revealing a slightly out of breath Trick.

"Okay, Trick, don't freak out until we get inside," Kenzi attempted to disclaim before the van's back doors swung open, Bo shielding her eyes from the sunlight as they readjusted. Lauren killed the motor before slipping out of the front seat to meet her, the both of them working together to lift Aife from the bed of the vehicle.

Trick's eyes bugged out of his head, but he ushered them inside without a peep, locking the door behind them. "Come on, this leads us down into my private study. There's a couch we can lay her on. Is she-?"

"Deceased?" Lauren offered without thinking before feeling the repercussions of her clinically desensitized mind, having to stop suddenly as Bo did to not drop the body. Bo stared at her wordlessly a beat, whatever emotion she meant to portray tangled up in so many others, before finally she shrugged off the attempt and kept after the quickly waddling man. "Yes . . ." Lauren finished more cautiously.

"Just right there," Trick pointed before gathering four glasses and an ornate bottle from a rustic china cabinet. He poured four, cleared the glass meant for him, and refilled it before turning to face his lost girls, raising the glasses up in offering. "To still the nerves." Bo refused with a firm hand gesture. Lauren accepted her glass. Kenzi accepted hers and Bo's.

"We have to find the monster that did this," Bo growled as she sat dutifully beside her mother.

"There's an injection site on her left arm, and from the dilation of the veins throughout her body, I would not rule out the same track was used to . . . to drain her, as well." Both Kenzi and Bo's wide eyes flew upon her. Nervously, she nursed her drink. Trick willed his feet to carry him to his daughter, examining her from head to toe, touching her arm.

"The Ash never does accept anything short of exemplary from his humans. I'd say you're right on the money." He placed Aife's arm back down gently against the cushion.

"So it was a fae kill," Bo rushed, trying hard not to imagine the life of her mother being sucked out of her, liter by liter.

"Not necessarily, but it is your mother we're talking about—"

"And your daughter," Bo bit accusingly. She expected the clinical approach from Lauren. Even if it was unsettling to her at times, she had seen it save her life and the lives of others too many times to fault her now. But Trick? "She's your daughter and she's dead and you're acting like we're playing a game of Clue!"

"I'm _acting_ rational, so I can find out who did this!" Trick's snarl boomed like thunder as he stared down his granddaughter. An awkward beat passed between them before Trick turned his back on them once again, gravitating to a table filled with dozens of tombs. He brushed his fingers along the spines of three or four before plucking a smaller hardback from the lot.

"If it was a fae, this kill is very telling. Blood demons may be dozens in number, but each have specific methods and reasoning behind their hunt. Fortunately, whatever drained . . . my Aife . . . isn't a drinker. He'll still have her blood on him. And we can track it."

"Dyson?" Kenzi asked, having found her way to the bottle Trick had broken out, pouring herself a third shot. "I can go get him. I think he's upstairs."

"No." Bo and Trick both said in unison, sharing a confused glance before Trick clarified. "Even a wolf's nose has limits. We don't know how far away this fae is. But blood calls to blood, and as surely as my blood ran through Aife, Aife's blood runs through Bo." He paused, looking between the three of them before continuing, beginning with a heavy sigh. "I can use Bo as a conduit. With my blood magic and Bo's blood singing to Aife's, I can . . . feel where the fae who did this is."

Lauren cleared her throat, but Bo voiced concerns first. "What about the consequences?"

"Applicable only when I write history. This is more or less an induced state that a being of my particular genetic makeup can achieve," Trick explained calmly. "With your help, anyway."

"So what are we waiting for?" Bo asked, standing to her feet.

Lauren's body lurched forward to join her at her side, to maybe even ease her back down in the chair, but she stilled herself. It wasn't her call to make, but she could still ask . . . "When you say you'll use Bo as a conduit, what exactly does that mean?"

Trick hesitated, his mouth moving wordlessly before speech caught up with him. "She'll have to be comatose. I can't . . . I can't have her consciousness struggling with mine. There's only so much a mind can take. After that, it's as simple as . . ." he took a deep breath before bulldozing through the procedure, "me pricking my finger, placing a drop on Bo's tongue, inducing a trance through the consumption of a wheedlewart toxin sac and continuous, uninterrupted contact with Bo at all times up until the moment we wake up."

"What?"

"Gross."

"So are you gonna hold my hand or what?"

"Bo, I think you should—" Lauren began, only to fall silent of her own volition as Bo's eyes found her again, subtly luminescent.

"When I find the man that murdered my mother, I am going to show him what it's like. To feel the loss of every ounce of life evacuate your body. To watch as it's drawn from you while you're paralyzed." The otherworldly electric blue of Bo's irises intensified with every word, her mounting hunger for vengeance gripping her. "And when his trembling body is the only means he has left to beg for his life . . . I'll stop." Bo squeezed her eyes shut tightly and when she opened them again, she saw relieved faces through the pops of red and black spots and more importantly, through her human shade of blue. Kenzi and Lauren both exhaled breathes they hadn't been aware had caught, only to be winded a second time as Bo spoke up again, an icy calm in her tone. "I'll stop, and I'll let the rest of him perish naturally."

"Whatever we do, we have to find him first," Trick stated neutrally, doing his best to hide the quickening of his own pulse at the shift in the air. "Bo?" He offered his hand to her, gesturing to a pair of chairs with an open palm. Bo clasped his hand firmly, allowing the shorter man to lead them both, sinking into the chair to the left of her grandfather. As he settled, he looked over to her, a sadness penetrating the level-headed authority he had been displaying the very moment he discovered Aife's death. Wordlessly, he squeezed Bo's hand until he felt her squeeze back. A trembling ghost of a smile left as soon as it came before his attentions were turned toward Lauren, her arms crossed firmly over her chest.

"I'll need your help more than anyone's . . ." he admitted humbly. Her disbelieving eyes remained wide, arms somehow tightening further as her fingers wrung the fabric of her jacket.

"You can't ask this of me. I . . . I don't even know what it is you're asking," Lauren finally sputtered, head shaking back and forth as her hands gestured helplessness.

"Lauren . . ." Bo uttered softly. The sandy blonde answered without fail, turning her head and letting her hands fall to her side, eyes wavering. "I need to know who did this. Please. If they've killed my mother, who's to say Trick won't be next. Or me. Or you, or Kenzi or anyone for that matter. I . . . I just need to know, so I can protect us. I'm tired of finding people only to lose them." Her wrist unfurled toward Lauren, presenting an open palm. Quietly, Lauren approached to give it company, but before she could place her hand in Bo's, it was reaching up to cup her cheek and beckoning her downward. Hopelessly, Lauren followed, gripping the armrests of Bo's seat as the succubus' lips parted mere millimeters from her own. "Thank you for finding me. I know you always will," Bo whispered so quietly that Lauren felt the words more than heard them before they were sealed with the pressure of Bo's lips caressing hers. Lauren urged for more, anchoring her fingers in Bo's hair at the nape, lips becoming tongues becoming her heart pounding in her chest, desperate to break through and witness the emotions pouring between them. And then reality cut in with the clearing of a throat. Drawing back reluctantly, Lauren lingered, fingertips digging into the armrest as she gathered herself. Her tongue traced over the slight swell of her bottom lip before she straightened up, looking to Trick as if nothing had happened, the flush of her cheeks the only tell-tale sign.

"Tell me what to do."

With a nod, Trick reached into his breast pocket, producing a delicate silk string of crimson, easily twice his height in length. Kenzi cocked an eyebrow.

"Into some kinky fae play, are we, Trick?" she joked for the first time in hours, earning her the look she had grown accustomed to from Trick; the classic sideways glance that seemed to say "oh you" with a firm wag of his finger, regardless of whether he was washing a dish or nabbing a pilfered shot glass from her hands. He offered her a kind smile before handing the string to Lauren and twining his fingers with Bo's.

"Tie us together. I can't guarantee our bodies won't . . . spasm. This will make sure the contact holds. Make the knots tight. We'll cut the string later if we have to." Lauren looked to Bo for permission and at her nod, began weaving the string between the arm rests and their arms until the length of it was spent. Cinching the knot as tightly as she could, she brushed her hands free of the act against her pant legs, knowing the worst was yet to come.

"So . . . so how exactly did you plan on . . . putting Bo under," Lauren managed, lips pursing into a thin line.

"I trust you're a skilled anesthesiologist?"

Kenzi's gaze shifted from Trick to Lauren, wide eyes accompanied with a gaping mouth as Lauren reluctantly nodded. "And I trust your private study doesn't also double as a sinister bondage dungeon, _right_ Trickster?"

"Right," he replied casually, keeping his eyes on Lauren as he gestured to a set of metal lockers. "There's a number of injections in there; propofol, midazolam, methohexital – take your pick. The anesthesia machine will be behind the curtains there by the east window."

"What kind of vapours?" Lauren inquired as she rummaged through the locker, bringing needles to her eye level to read each label.

"Isoflurane. It tends to work best with most fae physiology."

"That it does . . ." Lauren muttered to herself, settling on a needle of methohexital before disappearing behind the curtain. Kenzi took the opportunity to converse with Bo, wild eyes asking her if she knew what she was getting into. Bo could only smile weakly.

"Bobbafet, you know you don't have to go this alone, right? We haven't even given Dyson a shot yet. Shit's about to get serious. I'm sure if we toss him a Scooby snack and you rub his belly and other non-belly areas, he'll come . . . around. He'll help us out. I mean, maybe a game of Scratch-n-Sniff is all he needs to feel like a man again."

"This isn't about Dyson, Kenz. I know he would help me if I really needed it, but right now . . . I just really need to do this. Dyson's just an extra step that I don't have time for right now." The creak of the wheels of the anesthesia machine drew both their eyes to the daunting cart, outfitted with two monitors and an overhead pole.

"I'm sorry about this, Bo, but I'm going to need your left arm," Lauren instructed as she hooked a bag of clear fluid onto the extended pole. "I'll need to establish an IV," her fingertips grazed the crook of Bo's elbow, "right about there. Is that okay?" Bo glanced over at her mother. Her arm was obscured from view at her sitting height, but she could still see the telling puncture clear as day in her mind. Closing her eyes, she nodded.

"Of course. It's just a little needle, right?"

"You're going to feel a pinch," Lauren stated calmly, dawning latex gloves before tying one around Bo's bicep.

"Ow," Bo's bottom lip jutted out as she frowned.

"That's not the pinch," a hint of a smile played in Lauren's voice until the context of her actions sobered her. Ripping a hypothermic needle from its sanitation package, Lauren used her thumb and middle finger to flick against Bo's skin, coaxing out her vein. "Big breath," she instructed calmly, and with Bo's eyes still closed, pierced the succubus' skin. "And release." Bo exhaled.

"Okay, I'm ready, Doc."

"For what?" Lauren asked, brushing her thumb against Bo's cheek affectionately before taping the IV down. Bo opened first one eye, chancing a glance down before opening both, head nodding slowly, impressed.

As Lauren hooked up the tubing, Trick beckoned Kenzi. "The wheedlewart is in a small, ornate box in the top drawer of my drafting desk. Would you fetch it for me?"

"The gold or the navy blue?" Kenzi asked as she rummaged through the drawer, pulling out an assortment of ambiguous, but beautiful objects, managing to pocket a silver coin before Trick looked up to see what she was referencing.

"The gold—and hey, put the quartz back."

Rolling her eyes, Kenzi fished a three inch quartz from her pocket, dropping it back down into the drawer dramatically before sliding it closed. She walked the small wooden box to Trick, placing it in his palm before looking over to Lauren. The needle of liquid anesthesia was prepped, Lauren holding it upright and an arm close to her chest as she waited for the word.

"I don't know how long we'll be under, but to be safe, dose Bo for an hour."

"An hour? Easy. That's practically an episode of _Sex and the City_," Bo crowed confidently before muttering to Trick with a knowing glance at Kenzi. "And I certainly wouldn't have minded being comatose for some of those." Kenzi's mouth dropped open and a sound of utter betrayal pushed the air from her lungs as she leaned over Trick to slap Bo's hand.

"Are you ready?" Lauren asked, the weight of the needle in her hand growing heavier with every delayed second. Bo looked to Trick. Trick nodded.

"Yes," she replied with no fear, looking up at Lauren. Lauren lingered in her eyes for a beat before lining the needle up with Bo's IV. Emptying the contents, she turned to face the anesthesia machine, adjusting the monitors and issuing a few commands before gathering the breathing apparatus in her hands. Turning back to Bo, she slipped the mask on, securing a suction fit carefully before looking Bo dead in the eyes.

"On my mark, I want you to start counting down from ten." Bo nodded her compliance, her hand reaching out to catch Lauren's wrist. Lauren looked down at the contact, cradling Bo's hand there for a beat before turning her back once again. With a press of a button and a turn of a knob, Lauren called mark.

"Ten. Nine. Eight . . . s-seven. Six . . ." Bo was out before five.

Trick squeezed Bo's hand tightly until it turned white in his grasp. No reaction. Satisfied, he pulled a thimble from his breast pocket, the inside of it hiding a needle point. He brought it to his captive hand for safe holding before opening the small wooden box on his armrest. The wheedlewart sac was bottled, preserved in a tinted liquid of some kind. Working the cork off with a twist of his thumb and index finger, he shot the contents, shaking the bottle firmly until the solids of the cocktail cleared the opening. With a blanch he swallowed, sticking his tongue out to air as his eyes watered. "Alright, quickly," he prompted somewhat raspily, fitting the thimble over his thumb before pressing down, drawing beads of blood enough to fill it. He extended it first to Kenzi, then to Lauren before finally holding it out in neutral air. Kenzi's face scrunched up, but through a hissing inhale, she plucked the thimble from Trick's fingers and stood before Bo. "Make sure to really coat her tongue."

"Not really my specialty," Kenzi groaned, tipping Bo's head back with the backs of her fingers before gingerly working her lips open. "Bottoms up, Bo Bo." Placing the thimble against her teeth to reduce the chance of spilling, she slowly tipped it inward, watching her procedure through one eye. As soon as the thimble was spent, she carefully tucked it back into Trick's breast pocket, straightening his collar as he stared unamused at her before his expression fell blank. His body fell back completely in his chair and with his last ounce of wakefulness, he closed his eyes.

"What do we do now?" Kenzi asked, dragging her chair parallel to Bo before falling back into it, trying her best to ignore the mask obscuring Bo's mouth and nose.

"We wait."


	2. Blood Ties

"Are you sure Kenzi got your heart back, because I'm beginning to think the Norn managed to one-up her and replace my best friend with an alcoholic grizzly bear. Look, how do you expect Bo to know if all you do is stare her down from across the room?"

"I don't think Bo wants to know, Hale, and I'm really starting to regret telling you-"

"Kenzi told me."

"I'm really starting to regret Kenzi telling you. "

"Someone had to, because it sure as hell wasn't going to be you!"

"Well what am I supposed to say?" Dyson demanded, his chair flying back as he stood in a snarl, fists on the table. "Hey, I know I was an asshole, and I swear this isn't because Ciara was cut down right before my eyes, but I think I can love you again so can you stop sleeping with half the city and see where this goes? Again?" He stared Hale down before the sound of silence crashed in on him, his yellow irises taking in the still room around him before he shook the snarl from his face. Hale inched off of his chair, dropping his voice between them.

"I'm getting sick of you snapping at me like that, man," he warned cooly, jabbing a finger into the table. "Besides Kenz, I'm the only one you've got right now. So cool it, yeah?" He held Dyson's gaze until the gruff man nodded, easing back down in his chair.

"I'm sorry."

"Damn right you are."

"I mean it," Dyson insisted. "It's just . . . I don't exactly have the expertise to deal with competition." His eyes shifted guiltily between Hale and his drink before he added, "Tactfully," taking a swill.

"Lucky for you, you've got me as a friend," Hale popped his collar, jutting his neck out like a strutting rooster. "Let me smooth out those rough edges and then we'll talk competition."

Dyson shook his head, an amused grin tugging at the corner of his lips, but he rose his glass to toast despite, inspiring the same from Hale. "To Hale, taking on his most difficult assignment yet." Their glasses clinked and a sip was shared before Hale 'tsk'ed his disapproval.

"We're working on your optimism fir—What is it?" Hale's smile fell as Dyson's attentions zeroed in on the front door, stark still except for his nostrils, which flared as he inhaled the scent quickly approaching.

"When was the last time you saw a vampire come around the Dal?" Dyson asked cryptically, eyes still glued to the entrance. Hale traced Dyson's gaze to the door before looking back at him, confused but sufficiently alarmed.

"Uhhh . . ." Hale strained his memory, all the while inventorying all of the wooden furniture in his vicinity.

"Because there's about a dozen of them. Practically a city coven, last time I checked the files." Dyson rose to his feet slowly just before the door burst open from a well-placed kick, splintering at the hinges.

Thirteen figures filed in, one behind the other, filling the entrance of the pub. The last to enter leaned the broken door back over the gaping opening spilling in the last dying rays of sunset. All wore thick layers of blacks and darker shades, thick woolen hoods draping well over their faces. The first to step further in pulled back his hood as he addressed the patrons, fangs accenting a sinister smirk. "The Dal Riata is closed. You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here."

* * *

A groan emitted from Trick's throat as he blinked hard, willing his vision to clear. Everything was almost black – no, moving shades of gray, with distant lightning flickers of electric blue illuminating the difference. Unseen and unfelt winds whistled through invisible cracks and branches. In a momentary panic, Trick tried to rise to his feet, only to find he was flat on his back, his limbs not quite as awake as the rest of him was slowly rousing to be. Taking it slow, he pushed himself up to sitting, taking in more of his surrounding as his equilibrium restored. Echoes of locations and faces flitted through the air, so fragile that just the wave of Trick's hand could dismiss them in scurrying strands of smoke. Lauren had done her job well. Wherever Bo was, she was deeply sedated. She would have to be, if Trick had any hope of completing his task.

Plunging his hand in the wispy tendrils obscuring the ground beneath him, Trick pushed himself to his feet and began to walk. Direction was not a concern, or even a thing, he knew. Not here. He only had to think and wait for Bo's subconscious to hear his thoughts and accept them as her own.

"Bo," his voice echoed, growing louder with each repetition before disappearing altogether as if passing through a tunnel. The ground beneath him trembled before exhaling, a mushroom cloud of pitchest black looming over Trick before rising farther than his eye could perceive. When he cast his vision back down, Bo was before him, yards away, resting peacefully in the spitting image of her bed, complete with crimson and cream bedding. The brazen color nearly brought his eyes to watering from the sheer contrast. His jaw clenched as tightly as his fists before fully relaxing, transferring all of his kinetic energy into his broad shoulders as he marched to her bedside.

Her resemblance to Ysabeau was uncanny at peace. The darkness made her paler, skin almost of ivory. Except for her lips. Ysabeau's lips had always remained the daintiest shade of pink, like the petals of a fragile flower. He brushed a strand of chestnut from her forehead before lightly clasping Bo's shoulder. "It's time to wake up, Bo. One last time," he shook her gently to no avail. Bringing a hand to his forehead, he massaged his temples before producing the thimble from his breast pocket once more. With shaky hands, he picked Bo's limp hand from the sheets and fitted the thimble to her thumb before driving the needle in.

A pulsing shock of crimson radiated in all directions from Bo's bed, accompanied by a deep, painful wail that emitted from everywhere other than Bo, scattering like a frightened cat until the dark, calm grays and the whistling winds returned. Bo gasped, filling her lungs with the first breath of air she had consumed in this plane.

"Shh, shh," Trick comforted, easing Bo back down against the bed as her body lurched upward. Wild eyes turned in the direction of his voice before cognizance dawned.

"Trick? Wait. Where are we?" Bo mumbled groggily, pushing his hand off her shoulder before drawing herself up to sitting, taking in everything with an odd sense of familiarity. The more she looked, the quieter the winds got, and the tendrils of gray dusted themselves off to reveal faint shades of cool colors. The distant thunders crashed with more frequency, but never approached close enough to clash louder than a whispered suggestion.

"We're in your head."

"I thought I . . . wasn't supposed to be awake for this," Bo drawled confusedly, pressing her fingers firmly against her eyes before giving everything a second glance.

"I wanted to let you know why, so that . . . maybe you could find peace," Trick said with difficultly, fingering his wedding band nervously, eyes diverted to the sheets at Bo's feet. Bo could practically hear his neck creak as he stiffly forced himself to meet her gaze.

"Know what?" Bo nearly demanded. The tendrils stirred around them with a little more livelihood.

"Ysabeau. Power is wasted on our ilk. It's only needed when you wish to enforce your will on the unwilling. It's a destructive, addictive, maddening thing, and if . . . if everyone were like you, it wouldn't have to exist. I do not regret the man I was. Power is . . . thrust upon us. Worse, power is thrust upon those that crave it. When you stare up at the stars and wonder why things have fallen the way they have, it's only natural to try and make some sense of it. I thought I had so many centuries ago, and maybe I did. Maybe I did what was needed at that time. With the Garuda gone, and you as the champion who vanquished him, I feel times are changing. Eyes are on you. And you are cursed with power." Trick spoke slowly and deliberately, pausing often, mouth hanging open, exhaling rejected thoughts slowly through his nostrils as he thought hard on his next words. Despite the sad calm in his voice, it stirred a fear in Bo that she could not comprehend. If breathing was more than just a suggestion of reality for the convenience of a habitually-driven mind, she was certain she would have suffocated.

"What are you saying?" Bo asked breathily, voice cracking.

"The Garuda were not the only ones that wanted my blood spilt. They were just the most intimidating. Few fae are older, and we fear what we do not fully understand. With him gone, we are still not safe. We've merely eliminated the first tier of a pyramid of blood-thirsty, power-hungry beings who will gladly sacrifice their mediocrity for a chance at greatness. My secret is no longer guarded, and your fame precedes you. Even those that do not believe in the myth that is me have heard enough tales of your prowess to crave what makes you tick. Our blood is power and we have two options. We either let it consume us, or let others take it from us. Or. Destroy it."

Bo's brow furrowed, the scenery around them stilling as all of her processes tried and failed to comprehend the suggestion buried in Trick's monologue. She fought the initial thoughts – the logical conclusions. They couldn't be true; just figments of a mind recovering from war. And yet the more she ignored them, the louder they screamed, the smoke and clouds around them making them the eye of a quickly mounting storm. Before the both of them, images of Aife's body spun about, Lauren's voice filtering in from all directions.

". . . from the dilation of the veins throughout her body, I would not rule out the same track was used to . . . to drain her, as well."

Trick winced, a barely audible whimper reverberating in his throat before his guilt rippled through Bo's consciousness, a memory not of her own joining the reliving of discovering Aife's body. This time it was Aife's voice to come out of nowhere, panic-stricken, "I'm gaining control. I am. What are you— Stop!" and the sound of a struggle before a whispered "I'm sorry" in Trick's timber echoed to the point of ear-splitting volume. They both covered their ears, faces screwed up in pain until the echo subsided and the image of a syringe being removed from Aife's arm blew away.

"You killed her," Bo's whisper was hardly audible over the thunder now crashing directly overhead. Streaks of lightning surged through the tornado walling them in from all sides. "You killed my mother." Tears freefell as the sheets beneath her twisted in her fists, eyes surging with electricity. This time she cried over the thunder, her voice dominating all else. "You murdered your daughter!"

* * *

"Whoa, whoa, why's it doing that?" Kenzi's index finger jabbed at the air in the direction of the monitors, distracting Lauren from examining the rapid eye movement beneath Bo's shut eyelids. She turned first her head, before the information on the screen yanked her whole being to it.

"There shouldn't be this much activity," Lauren protested, grabbing the second screen in a white-knuckle grip as she brought her face closer to it, eyes hurriedly taking in every reading presented. "S-something's off." A high-pitched yelp escaped Kenzi as she jumped in her seat, startled by a sudden full-body spasm that made Bo's chair lift from the ground for a split second. Bo's fingers tore free from Trick's, her whole arm straining to escape from his as another, lesser spasm shook her body.

"Hold her down!" Lauren cried, holding the breathing apparatus in place until Kenzi could bear all her weight down on the armrests.

"Bo! Bo, baby, we're here. We're right here!" Kenzi cried, trembling like a leaf as she blinked away instantaneous tears.

* * *

The cloaked figures gleefully parted as The Dal quickly cleared out, dark and light fae alike brushing past their bodies, refusing to make eye contact. A low, rumbling growl festered in Dyson's throat as he stood his ground. Hale slowly rose to his feet, turning gradually with his hands in the air to face the newcomers.

"Hey fellas, this is sanctioned territory, or have you been in the ground too long to know that?" Hale questioned. Even with his palms presented peacefully, he still kept the steel in his voice. Dyson's throaty growl ended with a snarl as the other twelve removed their hoods, brandishing fangs.

"We're here for the blood sage and his unaligned welp," the assumed leader stated, an amused chuckle trickling through his words. Pointing a wickedly long fingernail at Dyson, he mused, "We have no interest in perpetuating the vampire vs. werewolf stereotype, pup. Run along now and you may still have time to chase your tail before beddybye."

"My loyalties lie with the Blood King. If you seek harm for him and his, I will gladly put those thoughts to coffin," Dyson threatened, irises blackening before yellow eclipsed the darkness. Another snarl revealed fangs of his own as he threw his shoulders back, fingers itching to tear into flesh.

"Have it your way," the raven-haired vampire shrugged his shoulders before an almost childish laugh lit up his face. "Get it?" his chuckle was high-pitched. "Blood King? BK? Have it—oh, who am I kidding. The humor's lost on hounds." In unison, the coven hissed before lunging for Dyson and Hale. A howl ripped through Dyson as he tore the belt free from his jeans, shirt shredding as he shifted without hesitation, Hale buying him the seconds with a sonic boom, knocking the three quickest back to crash into the tables.

* * *

"This is the price! This is the price of our power! It was given to us to take it out of hands that would abuse it," Trick shouted above the roaring winds. The more Bo struggled, the more ensnaring her sheets became, snaking up her legs until finally they snatched her wrists from midair, sinking them into the mattress. "I thought I could wield it, but as long as it exists, it will always be sought. Our continued existence is selfish, Bo, our enslavement inevitable. You are already beginning to fall to the darkness . . . and I—I am an armed nuke just waiting for a side to find and use me." As Bo exhausted herself in her struggle, the tempest slowed and quieted around them. Finally, Trick could fall back into a normal speaking volume. "Evil will always exist, but without us to become instruments, maybe it won't prevail."

"This isn't you talking! This is the Garuda! I—he—how?" Tears of frustration streamed down her ruddy cheeks, Bo never once slowing in her struggle as the fabric constricted around her elbows.

"If I were a true king, I would have spilt every drop long before you and Aife were born. I brought you into my curse and I am sorrier than I can ever express that I must also take you from it, but it's the only way I can think to bring a lasting peace."

"This isn't your decision to make!"

"It's already been made," Trick confessed gravely. "Wheedlewart venom. It was common back during my reign. So common that I would consume nonlethal doses with my mead daily to build up a resistance, lest an assassination attempt be served in my dining hall. Strangely enough, the human physiology is immune to its properties. Considering Kenzi had three glasses, I could not be more thankful."

Bo grew pale as a ghost, memories of Kenzi forming into existence around them, her smiling face and mischievous blue eyes, even in the face of death, bringing Bo fleeting comfort. "I didn't have any," she uttered solemnly, not yet daring to voice optimism with her sheets snaking up her chest, licking her clavicles.

"You didn't have to. But enough of this, we're running out of time. You're fading, Bo, and I must ensure that we will be properly disposed of before the toxin takes me too." His eyes welled, but he kept the tears back as he approached Bo, placing a palm over her heart. "You won't be waking up, Ysabeau. As much as I wish you were . . . wish you had, your mother and I should have died with you all those years ago. Think of someone you love. Just . . . just don't think of what I've done." Crumpling to his knees, he buried his face into the sheets, sobs sending tremors through his body as he took Bo's hand in both of his and wrung it for comfort. "Please," he choked out a wet plea, spittle glistening against his lips carved in anguish as he looked to Bo.

The sheets were at her throat now, making it hard for her to breathe or swallow as the muscles fought the slow creep. Irises still defiantly luminescent, she struggled to enunciate every word, the delivery painfully slow as she fought to breathe. "W-who . . . will . . . protect . . . them?" Her jaw trembled as she looked to the sky, evoking the face of every heart that ever opened up to hers. Mary and Sam, her adoptive parents, Aife, Hale, Ryan . . . before a symphony of voices composed of Kenzi, Lauren and Dyson began singing words of love and affirmation, swelling desperately to remind Bo of each and every memory. Her eyes burned from the salt of her tears, vision blurring as the flow grew too powerful to blink away. She tried to speak, but her voice remained lodged in her throat, lips moving wordlessly.

Trick shook his head slowly, still sobbing as his grip on Bo's hand tightened. "I don't know . . ." he wept, watching the light fade from Bo's eyes before his attention drew to her lips. A wounded wail died in his throat as he recognized what she was doing. She was counting down.

"Five," her lips formed. "Four. Three. Two . . ." Closing her eyes, the last word to form on her lips was "Lauren". The symphony died, each voice ending with "I love you" as the sheets drew over her head.


	3. Blood-Letting

"That's Dyson." Kenzi's gaze shot up to the ceiling above them as his howl pierced through The Dal like the bellow of a Viking battle horn. A crash and muffled snarls to follow tore both Kenzi's and Lauren's attentions temporarily from Bo as they strained to hear more.

"That's more than just Dyson," Lauren murmured, eyes darting to locate every entrance she could. "We need to bar every door and window that we can. There's no way we can move the two of them."

"On it," Kenzi leapt to her feet, voice confident but eyes doubtful as the decision of how and where to start overwhelmed her. Bo's spasms had grown less violent and further between, her numbers slowly dipping back down to resting rate as Lauren went from monitor to Bo's side, trusting neither alone and barely both together.

With the windows barred, Kenzi checked the back door from which they had come, jiggling the handle roughly until she was confident the lock would hold most anything corporeal out. She began upturning every ornate rug, looking for tunnels before Hale's voice boomed throughout the Dal, unmistakably enhanced by his siren vocals. "VAMPIRES!" the warning shook the ceiling beams, heard loud and clear.

Kenzi shot a wild glance in Lauren's direction before hurriedly asking, "What applies?" Lauren stared back at her hopelessly lost before Kenzi picked up the nearest fragile-looking chair and smashed it to smithereens upon the floor. "Stakes? Garlic? Sunlight?"

"O-oh. Uh, stakes, yes. Silver. Beheading. Fire, if it reaches the heart. Salt, also to the heart." Lauren rattled off apprehensively, the cogs in her mind clumsily doling out the information as Kenzi ran to the only door that led up into the serving bar. Clutching the splintered chair leg to her chest, Kenzi lined herself up just out of reach of the swing of the door, muttering a request to her ancestors in Russian before the door burst into splinters, two bodies breaking straight through.

Lauren and Kenzi watched as the splintered door turned the unfortunate body atop it to ash leaving the wolf atop him to lose his footing and fall. Rising quickly, refusing to be fazed, he shook the dust from his peppered coat, yellow eyes falling on Bo, Lauren and Trick. Sparing not another second, he turned and bounded back up the stairs. If things were urgent before, they were dire now. He could not fail. Not with Trick and Bo out of the count.

"Everything's going to be alright, Bo," Kenzi swore across the room, seeing only her friend, helpless and unaware, unable to defend herself. Tightening her grip on the makeshift stake, she bolted up the stairs after Dyson.

"Kenzi! Don't!" Lauren called after her, reaching for the girl as if the gesture would bring her back before withdrawing her fist slowly to her mouth. One glance at Trick told her what she had to do. In a second she was face to face with him, grabbing his chin and rotating his head side to side as she tried to coax him to come to. "Trick. Trick. Trick!" Without thinking, she wound her right arm back and slapped her palm across his cheek so brutally that she could make out each finger on his face. His eyes shot wide open before he rotated his jaw, blinking the black from his vision.

Lauren grabbed his freshly bruised chin, bringing his focus to her. "I'm sorry," she hurried through the obligatory apology, "but The Dal is under attack. We need to get Bo to safety."

* * *

"I'm going to suck that tater tot drier than a Capri Sun," the bald-headed vampire grappling with Hale sneered before bringing his knee into Hale's gut with superhuman force, hitching his limp body into the air half a foot before he crashed down, face first.

"Aw Hale no, girlfriend," Kenzi sassed through a grunt from behind the cue ball, thrusting the splintered chair leg through his left shoulder. An otherworldly screech hissed through the air before the vampire turned to ash. She quickly dropped to one knee, tossing the broken weapon aside in favor of helping Hale to his feet.

"Kenz," Hale sputtered painfully, spitting a mouthful of blood to the side before wiping the dribble from his chin. "What are you doing here? Get Bo and get out!"

"You're so very welcome," Kenzi chimed with exaggerated exuberance, slipping herself beneath his arm to act as his crutch as he gripped his stomach, still somewhat doubled over. From his peripheral, he saw another vampire quickly approaching. Lifting his head, his lips pursed, and the shrillest whistle vibrated in a concentrated beam straight at her. She stopped dead in her tracks, clutching at her temples as her teeth gnashed. Hale maintained the whistle until blood ran down her ears and her eyes rolled to the back of her head. "Where's D?" he groaned, licking his parched lips as he forced himself to stand erect as he could.

They scanned the room together, the unsettling stillness not lost on them as their eyes flitted through the wreckage. Ash and splintered wood were everywhere, but a body there was not. A sickening sound, something akin to a slurping suction, came from behind the bar. Swallowing their fear, they used the support of each other to carefully navigate the debris beneath them. Kenzi's hand flew to her mouth to stifle a cry as the sight of three vampires on their knees framed Dyson's naked human body, their mouths pressed to his body and talons inches deep into his flesh. He was completely motionless, eyes closed, lying partially curled on his stomach, fang marks leaving rivulets of blood striping his limbs and ribs.

A strangled lament of "Dy" hoarsely passed through Hale's lips as he tasted bile at the back of his throat. "You. FUCKERS!" In a blind rage, he dislodged himself from Kenzi, bull-rushing the group that had just barely risen to their feet, alerted by Hale's utterance. His fist crashed into the jaw of one, snapping his neck with the force and angle of the blow, causing the vampire to stumble back disoriented before realigning his neck with a twist of his palms. Before he could take another swing, a vampire was at either of his sides, holding his arms in python grips.

The raven-haired leader looked him up and down, dabbing away a spot of blood from the corner of his lips with the pad of his thumb. Casting a glance behind him toward Kenzi, he twirled his index finger in the air, stepping over Dyson's body before disappearing out of Hale's sight. His two captors slowly rotated him until he was facing the opposite direction, Kenzi doing her best not to tremble in the vampire's grip as he stood behind her, caressing the curve of her jaw, one arm wrapping firmly about her waist.

"Tsk tsk tsk. What were you thinking bringing a human to a fae fight?" he taunted, drawing his nose along the length of her shoulder, taking in her scent like one would a fine Cuban cigar. Without warning, he thrust his palm against her jugular, his fingers splaying upward to arch her neck back before sinking his fangs viciously into her throat.

"Kenz!"

"Gag him!" blood sprayed from the leader's mouth as he hissed, Hale's deep inhale not going unnoticed as the siren wound up for his next attack. A hand flew to his mouth, but before it could settle, Hale sank his teeth deep into the webbing between thumb and index. The vampire howled in wild pain, skin searing beneath the silver fillings of Hale's molars, and in his panic he let Hale go. Throwing his arm in front of him, Hale dislodged a table splinter from up his jacket sleeve, catching it before it clattered to the ground and thrusting it into his second captor's heart.

With his newfound freedom, he flew to the liquor shelves, reaching high before pulling a bottle of clear, sun-kissed liquid from the top shelf, simultaneously slipping the handle of a pint glass in his palm, smashing first the mug, then the liquor over the disoriented lackey's head. Smoke hissed from the open wounds as the fermented sunlight entered his bloodstream, and within thirty seconds he was writhing on the floor before turning to ash altogether.

Chest rising and falling heavily, Hale turned his sights back to the lone vampire and Kenzi, whose eyes flitted opened and closed as her neck bled freely. With a snarl, the vampire tossed her to the side, popping his neck from side to side, his self-alignment not quite satisfactory, as he slowly advanced on the nearly-spent nobleman.

Beginning to see double as his adrenaline waned, Hale took a few shaky steps back, hands groping behind and beside him blindly for something with heft, or the cool touch of metal. A gurgle sputtered in his throat, groping hands suddenly seizing the countertops as his knees buckled beneath him. His vision pulsed bright crimson before returning, considerably blurrier than before. He felt a trickling run down his leg, hot and thick. Head slowly nodding down to check if he had wet himself, he found an arm elbow-deep in his stomach and then his heart beating against the walls of his murderer's palm as it slowly constricted around it. Wide eyes of disbelief never had the chance to close as he perished then and there.

With a swift tug, the vampire dislodged his arm from Hale's corpse, a gleeful chuckle rippling into a riotous laugh as the simultaneous insurance of his survival and the death of every single one of his coven dawned on him.

"Сдачи не надо, motherfucker," Kenzi muttered menacingly from behind the raven-haired fae, hands flying to his mouth as one forced his jaw open and the other shoved the contents of her palm to the back of his throat. Withdrawing her fingers free from his teeth, she rammed the butt of her palm up against his chin, forcing his mouth shout as muffled screams of pain competed with a sickly hissing coming from within him. Bloody foam dribbled from the corners of his tightly-pressed lips as he clawed at the arm compressing forcefully about his throat and in his panic he swallowed the pus rapidly filling his mouth. His still-writhing body exploded into ash, a single silver coin glinting in the moonlight as it clattered to the ground.

* * *

"They've acted sooner than I anticipated . . ." Trick murmured to himself, eyes out of focus, looking somewhere past Lauren, and perhaps even further than the walls of his chambers.

"Who?" Lauren snapped, fumbling clumsily with the knot of the crimson silk. She bit back a frustrated shout through clenched teeth, her hands shaking too badly to even come close to loosening the bonds. Snapping a pair of surgical scissors from the anesthesia machine, she cut the knot loose, feeding the string clear of Bo and Trick. Only with the task done did Lauren realize Trick had yet to answer. Her eyes pounced on him, but he was miles away.

"It doesn't matter," Trick dismissed, moving to stand until a bought of wooziness convinced him to settle back down. The toxin was acting quicker than he had anticipated. "Lauren." He touched her shoulder, but she was already in motion as he did so, pulling away to utilize the touch screen, bringing all functions to a trickling halt. "Lauren." With the commands set to motion, her attentions shifted to the second screen, where they stilled like stone before darting wildly. She couldn't know why, but her first instinct was to slap the side of the monitor, rattling the IV hookup as she did so. "Lauren, look at me." Where Trick's voice had been soft earlier, her name was now a command, all too akin to those of her previous masters.

She whirled to face him in defiant obedience, chest stuttering in uneven intakes of air, breathing becoming suddenly difficult as her mind wrestled with the implications presented to her. Her irises vibrated – windows into a mind set to chaos - and it was only the desperate hope that Trick was about to tell her the trance interfered with medical readings that kept her still and immovably attentive.

"I need you now more than ever."

"Bo needs me!" Lauren's voice hitched with passion; a passion equally matched by Trick's thunderous revelation.

"Bo is _dead_, Lauren."

A silence fell between them as Lauren sought the truth in his eyes, breath captive in her lungs. Trick stared straight back at her, jaw clenched, guilt the only sorrow he allowed himself as he willed his mind set to its purpose.

The air evacuated her in a whimpering "no", hands like magnets flying to rip the mask from Bo's face before cradling her cheeks, ignoring the already dwindling temperature of her skin as she pressed her tremulous fingers to Bo's neck. "No, no, Bo! Bo, come back to me, okay?" the request was meek, quivering in its delivery as she cupped Bo's face again, thumbs stroking her cheek and forehead as they tried to knead warmth into her.

"We don't have time. Lauren, I must ask something direly important of you and it must be now."

Pressing her forehead against Bo's, Trick's words were entirely mute to her. She allowed a single, body-racking sob to tear through her before pulling herself together for a second attempt at reviving Bo. Kneeling before her, she pulled Bo's body towards her, letting it fall against her shoulder. With difficulty, Lauren shifted both their weights and positions until Bo was in her arms and the chair clear from their vicinity. Easing her to the ground, she immediately began performing CPR, counting each thrust of her palm out loud to assist in maintaining the rhythm she was finding to be painfully slow as seconds ticked loudly in her ear. Drawing her lips from Bo's for the fifth succession, she couldn't bring herself to try again. Arms retracting against her chest, clutching her heart to stop the hemorrhaging, she draped herself atop Bo, silent except for the periodical harsh gasp for desperately needed oxygen.

In her agonizing silence, Trick's voice permeated. "If The Dal really is under attack, we're out of time. Whatever happens, you cannot let our bodies be recovered. Not a drop of blood can remain. Mine, or Bo's."

Lauren's upper body rose mechanically, dehydrated, pink eyes narrowing on the man now pushing himself up out of his chair suspiciously. "You knew," a cracked whisper told Trick she had pieced everything together. "You knew she wasn't going to wake up." Trick could only nod, wincing as he felt his inner workings slowly grinding to an end he could not wish to come soon enough.

"Please. I have no right to ask you –"he clutched his side, hissing in a sharp inhale. "Our world has done nothing but use you, but if not for me, for Bo; don't let her memory be desecrated. Misplacing his next step, he fell forward, but Lauren caught him, easing him back squarely on his feet, remaining bent at the knees before him, holding him up.

"If there had been any other way—"

"She would have made one." The gravity of Lauren's words quashed Trick's excuse of robbing from her the chance to say "I love you". Nothing in this world could be reason enough. The king fell silent, bowing out humbly. His grip on Lauren's forearm tightened impossibly before relaxing to a phantom pressure.

"The Ash sequestered you from everything and everyone you ever knew to save us. If only our world could see, despite everything, you've risen to the occasion." Trick's eyelids slipped closed. Before Lauren could open her mouth to speak, the mighty king fell into the arms of a human, never to rise again.

For minutes, she could only sit there; Bo's body on one side of her, Trick's on the other, cradling her arms over her stomach as she rocked slowly back and forth, the only motion in a seemingly never-ending standstill. The silence overhead went unheard until the heartbreaking thought of Kenzi running down the stairs to return to her best friend's side spirited Lauren to her feet. "Kenzi."

She flew up the stairs into the pub, feet rooting to the ground as she cleared the last step, scanning over the blood-stained wreckage in revulsion. "Kenzi?" she called against her better judgment, easing further into the pub until she found herself grounded for a second time, horrified by what laid before her. Curled up against Hale's blood-soaked chest, face pressed into the crook of his shoulder was Kenzi, lying in their shared pool of deep ruby. Her hand had clutched Hale's shirt at one point in time given the smears staining her palm and furled fingers. Now it simply was.

With Dyson beside them and no other body in sight, she wondered what could have possibly done so much so quickly so violently, before realizing she wanted to know nothing; because nothing was all she knew now. Her world, destroyed in a matter of minutes, all of it happening under her nose, powerless to make the tiniest bit of difference. She was a human amongst fae; dinner, trying to interact with something beyond her. And she was now paying the price for her arrogant folly.

"What occasion?!" Lauren demanded of the walls around her in reply to Trick's dying words. _To dig the graves of everyone I ever loved?_ Her hands balled into fists of shaking rage before she could no longer contain the hurt within her. Grabbing the nearest piece of debris, she hurled it at the liquor shelf across from her, shards of glass raining down as bottle upon bottle shattered apart on the countertop below. She repeated the act, never tiring, until only the luckiest bottles remained and as she stood panting heavily, looking at the destruction before her, she knew what she had to do.

Trick had been the easiest to carry, Aife heavier, but neither nearly as heavy as Bo was in her arms as she slowly trekked up the stairs. With every step, she could swear she saw a flicker of Bo's eyelids or the twitch of her lips, whispering something she wanted to hear, no matter the word. Every time she looked down, she was reminded of how cold she was cradled against her chest and how so very alone she must have been in her last moments.

_I'm so sorry, Bo . . ._ Placing her with reverence beside Kenzi, Lauren salvaged an unscathed bottle of gin from the crystalline countertop. Tossing the stopper aside, she tipped the bottle just shy of 180 degrees against her lips, swallowing until her throat convulsed in protest. Sputtering, she wiped the spittle from her lips before pouring the remains of the bottle over the shells of her companions. Taking a few blind steps backwards, she worked a matchbook out of her pocket, striking a match before bringing the flame to eye level.

"Ashes to ashes," she murmured depleted as the match fell from her fingers to the alcohol-soaked ground below. She stood witness, watching as the flame drew life from death, first slowly, but exponentially quicker as it consumed the timber of a once-safe haven, and the once-safe haven of her heart. Bo's memory would not be tarnished, even if Lauren's last of her was to be the sight of flame licking flesh. Only when the air grew too thin to breathe did Lauren evacuate the building, crossing the street before leaning against a light post, the sound or sirens wailing in the distance. She would see this to the end. No one else could.

* * *

**Author's Notes:  
**_First off, thank you all for reading. Hopefully you've enjoyed it, however short or abrupt some may feel it to be. This was actually the result of a writing exercise prompt between friends, in which we chose a fandom and from that, were given four characters to feature and four separate stipulations on said characters. For those of you curious, my stipulations were as follows:_

_1) Bo dies saving Trick_

_2) Trick is the killer_

_3) Kenzi gets trapped with and killed by a monster_

_4) Lauren is the sole survivor_

_So when I say that this is the last installment, it is with certainty. I've appreciated all of the review. Hopefully this will not be the last you see of me!_

_Oh, and the Russian Kenzi speaks translates to "keep the change". If my Russian is inaccurate, forgive me._


End file.
